


Vengeance's Flight

by anesor



Series: Not Quite a Knave of Kirkwall [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen, Post-Game, post-jenga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:52:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anesor/pseuds/anesor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian made many rash vows during the span of DA2, vows which are not easy to reconcile. How often has he, himself made them happen?  So what will he do after the cataclysmic events and what will happen when he tries to fulfill his latest vows? -- A companion story for Sebastian's actions after the end of the game, dealing with the same storyline as "A Match to Tinder"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tears Burning Down from Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> _The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel. This story is a side to the other story, A Match to Tinder._

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's world came to an end again in Lowtown. He cannot stop the juggernaut, but has sworn vengeance... again. But this time he doesn't have Hawke and the others to help him.

**\- Kirkwall, Lowtown**

**Sebastian:**

Making my way through the lower parts of Kirkwall to find and hire some mercenaries, I wanted to weep for all the dead and soon to die in this dark chaos. The unholy light shining from Hightown told me not only had the Chantry been destroyed, but other parts of Hightown were burning. Fire could not spread far with all the stone, not as it could in other cities. Hightown was far above the stink of the harbor, but it was also far above the water to deal with fire.

I was no assassin that I could defeat Hawke and that abomination on my own. The Templars were already busy with the Circle, and I was unsure about the loyalty of the guard because of their Captain. I needed mercenaries, and quickly. If I could find a strong group I might still catch up with them before they could fight their way into the Gallows.

The abomination must pay for what he did. Elthina was a good woman, better than Kirkwall deserved with all the corruption and blood magic that flooded this city. I felt some guilt that I had not convinced the Grand Cleric to leave for her own safety. The Maker-cursed mage had murdered her.

Void take him and Hawke too. How deeply had he controlled her and for how long? She'd spoken to Elthina with me about her leaving not that long ago, the abomination silent as the guard captain for once.

Was that when he thought of it? _Maker, no!_

I avoided looters and violence when I had to, and executed some who insisted on visiting violence on those weaker than they.

Wanting to help suppress this mage rebellion, I saw no mages as I crossed from Lowtown to the docks. The only ones I saw moving around were thugs, mobs, and small teams of watch.

A watch still holding to their duty when their captain had abandoned them. In some shadows deep enough to hide my armor, I realized I hadn't thought enough, done enough, and prayed enough that Hawke would remain stronger.

Something was very wrong with the Knight-Commander but with her gone, nothing would stand between Hawke and the Viscount's throne. I'd even told her she should take it, the more fool, me, when her lover was that... thing. A mage controlling Kirkwall from behind the throne. The thought made me ill.

A breeze brought me the smell of burning, even if I could not see or hear anything. This rioting was endangering all, for the power of the mages.

Taking a brief rest, I prayed. I prayed for the Grand Cleric, now at the Maker's side. I prayed for all the mothers, sisters, and brothers who had passed while in service to Him. I may not have known as many by name as I once did, but they were my family, too. I prayed for all those who'd been visiting the Chantry for prayer or advice as if it were a normal day. And I prayed for the souls who had sought shelter from the coming storm within those walls.

My resolve firmer, I forced myself to pray for Hawke's soul. I regretted that I didn't know when it had happened, when the caring woman became the puppet of that maleficar. Still, that would not stay my hand when I found them.

I didn't understand it, I thought Elthina and Hawke were friendly. I thought Hawke and I were friends. She'd been a good woman when we met in the Chantry. What magics did he use to change her, mayhap a desire demon?

I threw my thoughts away from that image with a prayer... back to earlier.

_That mage was sitting on a crate, relaxed, as if some kind of throne, and he not in any danger for what he did. His bare back showing his arrogance. Maybe he was confident that Hawke was fully under his sway, that she helped cause this... cataclysm. Innocent blood was dripping from his hands, and she would not execute him for his crimes._

_He had to pay... for... for Her blood, a better woman than anyone in the cesspit of a city. Maybe because Hawke'd led us for so long or his magics enforced his will on the others, but none of them would help kill the abomination with me. Not even the elf Fenris who had claimed to hate magic._

_My mind was free. How bitter was the knowledge that they did not act. I had to get away, to regroup and make a true justice for all he killed._

I had to close my eyes for a moment, as Hawke was usually the one who chivvied them into benevolent tasks. It was a foul taste that I, as a Chantry brother, could never sway them to do the right thing.

At the Hanged Man, I stopped to look for mercenaries, but I only found one who looked trustworthy, not enough to reinforce any surviving Chantry forces. Seneto was a dwarven warrior, who didn't care anything about why there was fighting in the city, just his ale and fee. I could abhor that, even as I offered a ring as a deposit for his services.

Still reeling, I didn't even try to haggle with the warrior. We hurried to the docks where I hoped to confront Hawke in their mad plan to stop the Knight-Commander. But they had left in at least one boat for the Gallows, and were out of sight. I would not catch them in time, and one mercenary was not enough to even slow them.

For the next hours I scoured the lower parts of Kirkwall, hardening my heart to all the chaos that had erupted. Some guards were still on duty, but I had seen no templars protecting the city or rallying the people of the city against the mages. I visited every tavern, even a few places where some of the more reputable mercenary or gang leaders did business, but none were 'available.' Some even laughed in my face, but Seneto backed me up enough that laughter was all they offered. I had forgotten over the years how hard it was to acquire help in Kirkwall, I'd had what I needed for the asking. I hadn't made or maintained any contacts of my own to help me, a grave error now.

I'd looked over the harbor's waters, between visiting taverns or shady alleys, half expecting an explosion akin to what still glowed in Hightown. I didn't hear or see one, and it was late afternoon when a different light began to glow over the water, an angry reddish color shining from above the Gallows courtyard walls. I heard murmurs rippling as I tried to find a better vantage through the gawkers who'd paused. Something echoed across the water but it wasn't more explosions and the Gallows' tower seemed intact.

At an overlook, I realized the booms I heard were the sound of metal hitting stone, with a weight and deep echo heavier than a fallen Chantry bell. And it was repeating not just once, not dozens, but hundreds of times for how long I'd been hearing them now.

The echoing sounds were almost mesmerizing, as I could almost see shadows in the light and shapes moving in the distance, but that was absurd with the walls still in the way. The smoke and dust from the ruins and rioting were obscuring anything we could see from this distance.

What foul magics had the abomination and other mages produced? I wanted to know what had happened when the red light flared once more and then faded away. The last of the echoes stopped endless seconds later.

What happened?

That was what the few who watched instead of being in hiding were asking, and the streets cleared even more in the next minutes like a storm was still to break after that battle.

I would not find mercenaries now, so I sought the harbormaster's office. This city was a pit of evil and I must bring a force in the Maker's cause to cleanse it. I must retreat and build my army somewhere else.

Elthina deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: This story is very much for reconciling Vael and his contradictions from canon. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated._


	2. River of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian has escaped the chaos in Kirkwall and reached his homeland, a land that doesn't expect him after he has loitered in the City in Chains for almost ten years since his family's deaths.

_The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel. This story is a side to the author's other story, A Match to Tinder._

_\- x x -_

**\- Minanter River, not far inside the Starkhaven border**

****Sebastian Vael:** **

The river was finally broadening and growing more shallow less than three weeks later in my journey. I'd hired passage on a fast ship to Wycome, and then on a courier making for Tantervale and Nevarra itself, the _Ghislain Darter_. I would not need to go that far, but I was glad to be returning home on the great river. The Minanter and the many waters that fed it in Starkhaven were graceful ribbons though the lush green prosperity of my home. It was our road and everflowing fountain of the Maker's blessings.

Seneto had done a commendable job protecting me on our journey. There had been the occasional thug who sought profit off a poor brother, the more foolish they. He was getting tense, as I'd paid him none of my limited coin. The heirloom ring was of enough worth to serve as a contract for his services; I'd been carrying little money on that terrible day. I'd traded other items for our passage.

At least I could console myself that it seemed that Hawke had no more time to prepare than I. The abomination must have prepared for what happened, so I had no idea how entrenched their forces were in Kirkwall in the weeks since then.

Courier pigeons had spread news even faster than our hurried journey by ship, so wild rumors had outpaced us. Every dock had guards or Templars watching every boat when they docked, making sure that no one could jump ship without being noticed.

The news we heard was garbled, and I didn't know what to believe.

I _could_ confirm the Chantry's destruction by a mage and that the Gallows was still standing when we left.

I _could_ tell others that the Champion had been involved and my suspicions about blood magic as the cause.

I _**could not**_ convince the people I met along the way that the abomination had been hiding his plans for many years. They disbelieved it, even daring to disbelieve that I was a Vael. One merchant, whose son was healed a year ago in Darktown, openly scoffed at the whole idea an abomination could wait instead of causing an immediate bloodbath of magic.

What we hadn't heard about was what happened after the rebellion. Some said the Champion left her estate and moved into the Viscount's palace. Some said that no one had seen her, because she'd been horribly mutilated by a bolt and was waiting for the city smiths to make her a mask of jade. Pirates were raiding ships of the Qun with letters of marque from the new Viscountess. An actors' troop was telling her story with her as triumphant hero who slew everyone in the Templar barracks and the mages to take power. Another rumor said Grey Wardens were demanding access to lower parts of Darktown as Darkspawn were leaking out of forgotten corners. Another said the Champion was forming an army like the Penderghasts of old to reform Kirkwall.

Despite everything I said to people I met, too many sailors and travelers had seen that blasted statue in the docks and thought Hawke looked like that. She and the maleficar had been spotted attacking several Templar bases and chantries within days of the Event in Kirkwall. I could not believe that gossip had any truth.

Those were easy to discount as no one could travel that fast. More alarming was that there had been an uprising in the Circle in Nevarre. And there, it had been somewhat successful, though the Chantry had taken a hand when the Templar were defeated. Val Royeaux has not fallen, praise the Maker. There was always a contingent of Templars and even Seekers in Orlais, as the home of the Divine. Ferelden was quiet of news, but they still had not recovered from the Blight completely from what I'd heard over the years. Whatever other ways that land was going astray, I don't think I'd heard any dispute that it was a true Blight from any Grey Warden, even from wardens stationed further away like Starkhaven and Weisshaupt. I wondered how they knew. Rumors from further away weren't believable.

These rumors came from nobles, commoners, and merchants as we traveled, the same ones I was counting on appealing to for help to reclaim Starkhaven from my cousin. I prayed that I had not stayed away too long, that I still had a home. I wanted to be able to return home through the front door, and not the back like some filthy assassin or tradesman.

When the _Darter_ reached the toll island, it docked and I went ashore. The river's waters were much too shallow for the ship's draft for most of Starkhaven unless we were in the spring flooding.

I started to pay our toll, but instead got a crisp salute.

"Your Highness, welcome home," came from an older soldier who'd been watching those who disembarked.

"Thank you," I acknowledged, wondering who he was, "It is good to be home."

"We're all sorrowed about the events in Kirkwall, Your Highness. There was great fear here that you had died as well," he said after going to his knees in an old obeisance. "We could not begrudge a calling to the Maker, but I am happy you have returned in such turbulent times."

After all those years being a simple brother, or later a... I wasn't quite sure what, this reverence bothered me more than it had ever before. I knew this was as my father had expected, but when had I changed?

"I will be returning to the palace and Seneschal before I meet with my cousin. This is my guard, Seneto..." I explained to the veteran, as we left the pier briskly. I was moving towards a good inn where I'd spent much time, before I'd been packed off. I hoped their memories of my behavior were poorer than mine.

The soldier slowed and said, "We can call for the royal guard, instead of this outsider."

I had to pause. Why was he...? Then I realized he is eyeing Seneto with disdain, looking down his nose at the sturdy dwarf.

Then I realized that he was disturbed by Seneto's race. I said, while trying to speak gently over dawning annoyance, "He has been a diligent and reliable aide during my journey. The Maker sees all His children as equal."

Seneto's face was impassive, though the officer only nodded. I wished suddenly for Varric's facility with clever words.

But the Maker did not see fit to grant me that talent.

There were new faces inside or maybe they were more politic, so I was not troubled by my immature actions. I was left alone in a fine private chamber to eat, as had once been common to me. The food was tasty, but... the room echoed. So I ate rapidly and collected Seneto and hurried to find the harbormaster. I needed a fast passage, and I was coming to think taking the road would be much faster.

That became more difficult as I did not have enough funds to buy quality horses, as most were on noble estates. I wasn't sure if I had any supporters. There were no fast boats going further upriver, so we would have to make do with borrowed steeds from the guard. I pushed both the horses and my uncomfortable aide, reaching Starkhaven itself rapidly.

_\- x -_

At the city gate, I was recognized more quickly this time and we were afforded a full escort to the palace. Taken to a visitors' chamber to wash the dust away, I could not but contrast the cost of the furnishings with the sparseness of my quarters in the Chantry... the former Chantry. We did not need as much opulence here either.

I was escorted to the Council chamber, perhaps a good thing as I was not looking forward to seeing others using my parents' personal chambers.

Pausing, I saw only a few guards in the chamber, though I didn't want to know if there were more up behind the arrow slits overlooking the chamber. I was entering their central field of fire, and that made me edgy, though I kept myself still through long practice..

My cousin Goran was sitting in my father's place looking at a sprawling mess of papers and maps, and he looked solemn as did everyone else. There were five of them, dressed in more finery than I was now used to. I was in the armor my father had commissioned, very much a part of our traditional family armors.

"His Highness, Prince Sebastian," announced one of the guards.

I stepped in, feeling wary, like an intruder in my family's domain. I wondered if I was wise to return home like this. Aside from the very questionable information that had come from the Harrimans, I had heard nothing dark, but was my older cousin regent or usurper?

Goran looked up, and his face lit up in a seeming expression of delight, "Sebastian!" He came out from behind the table to embrace me, "Sweet Andraste, you're home."

Family. Why did I stay away? His hug was firm and he had tears in his eyes when we parted.

Family. Praise the Maker he survived. No matter the plotting around us, he'd always been kind to a foolish and arrogant young man.

Family. Who else amongst those people I'd fought with had had such a blessing of kinfolk? Losses and betrayals for all of them. How could I forget that blessing?

"The Maker has blessed His lost son, that I might find myself with family again," I said, feeling that my voice was unsteady as well.

Goran escorted me towards his seat, and he ordered a feast for me. His grin was open and wide enough to split his face.

The others present had more complex expressions. Only Cithol, obviously a Mother in the Chantry hierarchy now, was a familiar face from my youth. She was not smiling. One nobleman smiled, but two other nobles were more neutral.

Once my cousin had finished asking about my health and my journey, our conversation ground to a halt, like some arrow pinned it to the floor to die.

I needed to work on more uplifting analogies.

Mother Cithol said it. "Will you truly be forswearing your oaths to the Chantry, Brother?"

I could feel my voice cool more than it should when speaking to her. "The Maker has sent me a clear sign that I am to serve him for another purpose."

"Is this like your purpose in avenging your parents' deaths, instead of having faith in the Maker's will?" she asked steadily.

"Yes... No! How else is the Maker's wrath to fall on such as they?" I gritted through clenched teeth. "They are powerful and it will take someone with the skills and knowledge to root them out of their stronghold. This is as if the Magisters of old have burnt Andraste herself again right before my eyes! How could I not act? Will you fail to act?"

Goran was pale, looking horrified at our heated words.

Mother Cithol exchanged glances with the others and she admitted, "Of course I would act. But how long did you assist with rescue efforts, Sebastian? Or did you repeat your foolhardiness as after your family joined the Maker and swear bloody vengeance and hire bounty hunters?"

That reprimand drew blood, but I would not let these noble _advisers_ and counselors see me bleed. Then I wondered at her knowledge. "How do you know of this?"

"Did you think your tantrum at the Chantry board was unnoticed, child? Did you think your family did not keep eyes on you and insist you be discreetly watched? You were always a target for assassins and escaped apostates and maleficar. Did they not attack you, trying to catch you away from the safety of Her hall?" the Mother chided again.

 _No._ "No, I was not," I insisted. "None were hunting me. I was not at risk unless I was on a mission for some higher purpose."

Shaking her head, "That so-called Champion must have always been a troublemaker to take you into mortal peril, instead of respecting a brother of the faith and your safety. The only result was blood and death."

Remembering that a demon had seduced first the Harrimans and then destroyed most of my kin well before I'd even drawn up the announcement for the Chantry board, I was about to lambaste her when Goran interrupted us.

He introduced me to the other lords who helped him govern since my father's death. They were obviously a select group and used to speaking their mind. The lady and lord I didn't know were wealthy and arrogant. Reynord, of a long and prosperous noble line, was the only one who welcomed me. Lady Eladiss suggested that I should rest, with an elegant moue of distaste for my armor and possible travel dust. The last adviser was Hartovan, our senior general, once a bane of my younger self

The conversation faltered after the lady's comment, so I left. Marching towards my room, I discovered that it had been redecorated into a fine Orlesian style guest suite.

I spun, looking around as my guard remained in the hall with a cough after a quick scan. All my things, my trophies, and even favorite furniture I'd claimed for my personal use were gone. Entering further, the escape latch was still there, even if I did not trigger it. The room had not been painted recently, smelling only of wax, but I could not be sure how long it had been like this.

It was if I had never been here. It hadn't seemed long, but it was almost ten years since my family died, even more years since I had been sent away. How could time have passed so quickly without my noticing?

Girding myself, I rang for a bath now and for my steward in an hour, hoping the one who had served me personally was still in service. When he arrived and we had exchanged courtesies, I arranged to redeem my family ring with Seneto and learn my personal finances. I still had access to my own fortune, but most was invested so would take some time to dissolve. I had plenty for my own use but not as much as I'd hoped, after I'd spoke with my steward. Speaking with Seneto and others had revealed how much experienced mercenaries cost. I needed a core of good Starkhaven soldiers, firmer in their faith for my March on Kirkwall.

The feast went on in my honor that evening, but they didn't really need my actual attendance. Many of those I didn't know were drunk. I abstained for the most part as I was studying the Council and lesser nobility. True, some parents were quick to present their children as betrothal prospects, but I found the idea as distasteful as I had when approached a few times over the last years in Kirkwall.

While I would have to address that as my father's heir, it could wait. It would have to wait, as the women who... accosted me when they had been drinking were not interested in me as a brother in the Chantry, not even as a man. They wanted the wealth and power my position would give them.

I had dealt with so few of these opportunists since I left Starkhaven, I'd been slightly amused when others had avoided that part of family responsibility. Varric had even sold his family's estate, despite not needing the money after the expedition. Hawke had been seduced away from her responsibility as the Amell heir. The others didn't have that duty; I did and these... loose and tawdry women at the feast were not the gems of my people.

If I must turn aside from my oath, my wife must be above suspicion.

In the morning, I rose early, to find I was nearly the only one moving about aside from servants. It gave me the chance to visit the chapel.

A sister was preparing for a early morning service, despite a lack of household members attending. I felt a bit ashamed and I'd rarely attended when I lived here. I was usually too exhausted or hungover to stir this early, assuming I'd made it home at all.

The Maker had surely been watching over me for too many years.

Still I was sad, remembering my parents' custom to attend together. This was one of the few times of the day that they were permitted quiet time together. I had envied them, even as I'd been sowing my wild oats in those days.

But the chapel was now long empty of my parents and a scattering of those closer to them. My siblings had been virtuous and I suddenly missed knowing them as an adult, surely they were at the Maker's side. I closed my eyes, tamping down on my loneliness that I was the only one unworthy of His garden, twice over now.

My prayers as part of the service only granted me small comfort, but I mastered my emotions before the Sister finished. She seemed young, perhaps just out of her teens.

"Your Highness," she greeted me uncertainly.

"I am still a Brother, Sister. The Maker has blessed you with a lovely voice and sermon," I said to the nervous girl.

Still uneasy, she introduced herself, "I am sister Marsaili. Is there something I may assist you with, Ser?"

Remembering one facet of my discomfort as I'd traveled, I said, "I have been forced to travel of late, and I have lost my prayer books. Could I have one, perhaps?"

Her face brightening, "Of course, Ser. We have some extras, and you are more than welcome to select one."

She led me to a shelf and I selected one with fine illuminations for the prayers.

"Thank you. I have very much needed this comfort after... what happened in Kirkwall." I didn't know how long it would be until I could more easily mention the Grand Cleric, perhaps never..

"We heard, Ser. I am sorry for your grief," Marsaili said with a more mature compassion than her apparent age.

I felt better for a moment, that she had not used the statement about Elthina being at the Maker's side. I had used it myself, and had steeled myself to not get angry again at my loss when she said it.

She didn't, and my breath flowed out like an aging bellows, and I was calmer than I'd expected when the topic arose. Then I felt guilty for selfishly wanting the Grand Cleric's company longer and bit my lip.

The Sister changed the topic, nervous again, "I grew up here in the city, Ser. What is traveling like along the river? What are other cities like?"

Forcing a smile, I admitted, "I have not been to that many cities other than Starkhaven. The differences are not that large. There are palaces and markets and taverns in low districts in every city."

"Oh, I don't know the low districts, Ser. I grew up on Goldencourt Passage before I went to the Chantry," the young sister said with the smile of fond memories.

I knew Starkhaven streets well, but it had been a long time since my exile, and I asked, "Is that near the _Silver Tankard_?"

Her lovely smile stiffened, and I worried that something had happened to her, even in Starkhaven.

"My mother worked there, until she got a job working as a maid at the Chantry," she admitted in a stronger burr, her voice flatter.

That had been a favorite of mine, and I smiled for what felt like the first time in ages. Much of my allowance had gone into their coffers shortly before I'd been... _Maker_...

Air disappeared from my lungs and my stomach dropped out of me. My face felt cold and I felt light-headed. I looked at her, and tried to remember a detail a foolish boy wasn't as interested in remembering a month later. The young woman had strawberry blond hair instead of flaxen, and familiar bright blue eyes.

Dredging it from somewhere, I asked in a whisper, "Was her name Nola?"

Her curt nod was no surprise and I had to close my eyes at the answer to the puzzle I'd never noticed.

"I'm sorry, Marsaili. I will instruct my steward to meet with you..." My voice faded away and I wanted to laugh at how bloody efficient my parents had been.

I truly did not know what else to say to her. I was nearly forty and now the women at the banquet being younger than this Chantry Sister was disturbing. I think I blurted out another apology and an excuse about needing to pray and reflect.

Seneto had been on post at the back of the chapel and escorted me back to my room. There I'd opened the prayer book, and flipped through until I found one that caught my eye, despite the time of day.

_Evening Prayer_

_Merciful, gracious Maker!_

_Most heartily do I again give praise and thanks, that Thou hast during the whole period of my life taken thought for me and so bountifully protected me from all harm and danger of soul and body during this day, this week._

_And I further pray Thee, that Thou would through Thy grace, blot out all my sins, which I have this day and through the whole week committed knowingly or unknowingly against Thee and my neighbor. Let them be forgotten by them and remembered by me for ever._

_And help me graciously that I may pass from the old day into a new day, well-pleasing to Thee, Andraste, and to all those at your side._

_If I not be commended to Thy side this night, that I may rest and sleep safely and arise again refreshed and in health further to praise Thee._

_And when my last hour comes, take me to Thy side, for I am Thine, how gladly and willingly do I serve Thy will._

_\- x -_

After a time, I felt calmer, even if I was no wiser.

A message arrived from the general, wishing my attendance to discuss my plans for the future. I had planned to arrive in the council chamber first after Chapel, but... My plans were all awry.

_\- x x -_

_A/N: Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... A Note about what works or not, or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prayer was adapted from The Little Treasure of Prayers, a 1888 translation of the Epitome from the German Larger 'Treasure of prayers' found in project Gutenberg.


	3. Tears Raining Upon the Blinding Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian must make plans, difficult when people are determined not to hear his words. He must do this himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel._

**\-- Starkhaven palace, Royal Guest Apartment**

**Sebastian Vael:**

After I'd met... my daughter, my plans had to change at least for the morning. I sent the General a note. My Seneschal was aware of her and arrangements my parents had made for her without my knowledge. I doubted that they'd met her or they might not have seen the resemblance as clearly while she was young, but the clear blue of our eyes was like what I had seen in my father's eyes. Some priests had liked to remark on a celestial blue as a sign of His favor on our bloodline, but I had trouble believing that now despite my prayers.

Not for Sister Marsaili, she had the serenity and wisdom that I'd failed to master, even at her young age. Now I must do a cruel thing for the good of Starkhaven, I must acknowledge her as my heir and see to her training. She is the last heir of the direct line, and I did not want our line to disappear like the royal blood of Ferelden had.

My servant left to find precedents and begin the changes. I dressed in a finer court costume before returning to the chapel to tell her. She might have suspected or even known, but now it was her grandparents and uncles who had died. She would have to learn of her duties to the people of Starkhaven, even if she was not the immediate heir.

After telling her, I suddenly had a feeling of vertigo and realized I was giving similarly bad news to her, the way the Grand Cleric had given like news to me. News that my duty to Starkhaven was not complete. I did not want to force the sister to forswear her vows, but she might still provide heirs, as uncouth as that consideration was.

I tried to tell her kindly of these duties, but I remembered too well my shock when I'd been told of my family's death. My immediate wish had been to cling to my private joys in serving the Maker instead of my duty as a Vael. But their deaths and the rot that caused them weighed on me more and more. I could not settle into serenity as Her Grace wished with my parents' deaths unanswered, and so began my association with outside elements like Hawke.

Thanking the Maker that my daughter was better than I had been in my pride, I told her that my Seneschal would be contacting her. Her filial embrace was both a surprise and comforting, and I regretted that I could not stay.

My duty to the Maker and Elthina was demanding more, and I could not be slothful.

Receiving notice when the Council had retired to the dining hall for luncheon, I made sure I changed and returned to their chamber before they. Then I awaited the Council from my father's chair.

The General was the first to arrive, and noted I was wearing my family's armor. That was still the quickest way to remind them of my place in the tapestry of Starkhaven history.

He bowed and said in a flat voice, “Your highness, your visit to the chambers like this is very unexpected.”

“How could I not answer the call of my responsibility in such troubled times?” I paused here to steady my breath and added, “Clearly, I am no longer called to serve in the Chantry in the way my honored parents chose for me. I am free to serve Starkhaven and the Maker now.”

The older man looked doubtful, but first my cousin and then Lady Eladiss arrived with a servant and elegant tray of coffee and sweets. My cousin looked surprised to see me, but neither Reynord nor Mother Cithol did.

All were waiting to see where Goran would sit, even I. My choice of seats made my intention abundantly clear.

He looked bemused when he took another seat graciously. Reynord looked carefully between us and began to report on the health of Starkhaven. Candid news about Starkhaven was welcome. Little had changed, aside from the new Tower for mages, one less easily burned, that was still being built after years of delays. With the current rebellion, workers were afraid and construction had come to a halt. None knew if any would be moving in. I considered suggesting later that a letter to the Divine might be wise.

Other than that, Starkhaven itself was peaceful. There were templars stationed at our Chantry, but their duties were only for protection and vigilance with no Tower. There had been no fires or riots, though rumors said there were problems in most of the towers that had been heard from.

No other news was of note, other than the early harvest looking bounteous this year.

After this more impersonal news, the silence grew. My cousin had flushed and almost started speaking twice. However, someone was prompting him to silence from his winces and failure to say anything.

Let them start to speak, I had a right to this seat as my parents' son. And on a pragmatic side, I already had an heir. They would hear me out.

First to break the silence was the Mother, demanding my subservience by her tone. “Why are you here, Sebastian? Why have you returned here to parade your inability to serve the Maker in the Chantry as you have sworn?”

My smile was false and tight when I returned calmly, “The Maker has given me a sign that I am not to serve Him as a brother, but as His strong arm in Thedas. I can do that best as my father's son.”

“Can you hear yourself? That the Maker wanted the Grand Cleric to die so you could become a prince again? How full of pride and desire have you become?” Mother Cithol asked, her face paling and then reddening with anger.

That gave me pause, though I held my face flat, practiced in more Diamondback in Kirkwall than I would care to admit. “Of course not. I was again spared, through His grace so I could serve.”

“ _ **I**_ happen to remember the Grand Cleric Elthina's views on violence and vengeance, Sebastian. How well do you remember? Leave matters of war and death to those like our General. How can you even believe that you might lead Starkhaven, when you do not remember Lord Vael and his piety that stopped war on the steps of the Chantry?”

I prayed my tongue would be silver enough. “Andraste did not wait for the Magisters to see the light. King Ironfist was one man, who could be moved to piety or fear. Some evil must be fought, just as in the Marches the Divine calls. Doing nothing in the face of evil is only sloth, and not what the divine Andraste showed us. My revered ancestor did not do nothing, he faced the Ironfist directly on the steps of the Chantry, and did not pretend that Starkhaven would improve if he did nothing.”

My argument echoed older arguments in Kirkwall and in the Chantry that was gone now, but I could not think about it. That merely solidified my resolve.

“Listen to yourself, boy,” said General Hartovan, finally speaking. “You come back wanting to be a Prince, but only if it is convenient to your goals. How little thought about the welfare of your people has been in your words? A prince looks after his people like a good general, and doesn't waste their lives in hasty actions.”

“Starkhaven has joined with other kingdoms for Marches, and will with joy when the Divine calls the next.” The Mother spoke, but...

_She was talking down to **me**. They both were, as if the years had not passed and I was still a foolish boy._

“Are you denying that I am my father's son and last heir?” I made eye contact with each of them, including my cousin. I could hear that my anger at this was making my voice darker.

Goran, at least, looked embarrassed at this discussion. I should feel more sorry for him, but this was plainly showing that he was not ruling but ruled.

The others were uniting with the general and Mother, Lady Eladiss even had her nose raised and a curl on her lips. Reynord still looked neutral, but his silence was not in my favor.

At last the Mother spoke, “No, we are not denying you that, but how can you return this late after your father's death and expect otherwise? How can we as stewards for the people of Starkhaven, body and soul, put that burden on the shoulders of one who cannot keep his oaths? You would fail your oath to protect your people as you have failed your oaths as a Brother.”

I would not let the pain of that show in how it hit me. “That was due to my responsibilities as son. I found the demon that had set those events into motion and destroyed it. Starkhaven could not become the plaything of a demon and bloodmage.”

“Do you have any evidence of this extraordinary claim, Your Highness? Or witnesses of this... mage?” Lady Eladiss asked like a cat among the cream.

She had to suspect anything I had was lost. But not in the way she thought. My witnesses were Hawke and Anders, she might have snatched other evidence, but only the Maker knew where it was now.

Narrowing my eyes and glaring, I had to allow, “No. Much was lost in the destruction in Kirkwall.”

Mother Cithol took a hand again. “You have not grown out of being rash and impetuous. You will need to work hard to gain the confidence of your people, starting in this room. Your Highness.”

“There is little time, the Maleficarum and his puppet will consolidate their hold on Kirkwall, right on our doorstep! We must act now.” They were determined to not listen to me... refused to commit. Even the Mother was refusing to look beyond our borders.

“Then we cannot welcome you back, Sebastian.” Her words rang like the sound of an immense bell tolling, like what rang from the Gallows that dark day.

“In times of unrest and war, we cannot leave Starkhaven defenseless,” the General agreed.

The others nodded or murmured their shortsighted agreement.

“ _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.”_ I spoke through gritted teeth, as I re alized they would not act. “You would have none act against Tevinter if Andraste died again in front of you.”

Goran was the only one to wince at my accusation and I could feel my temper loosening. I stood and left the chamber, being very careful not to slam the door behind me. Seneto fell in with me as I strode back to my chamber.

I spoke with most of them individually again over the next several days, to no avail. I also spoke to several who should have the authority to release my parents' personal fortunes into my control, with equal success.

Finally Lord Reynord came to visit me in my study. His actual words didn't matter much, only that he spoke of the costs and balances as if they mattered to the Maker. What was clear was that I could have the use of a portion of my wealth, but it was also the wealth of Starkhaven and I was not going to be allowed to beggar Starkhaven on a foreign expedition. The amount he would grant sounded sufficient when I converted it to the more familiar sovereigns in my head.

When I started leaving the castle to start recruiting for a mercenary force with Seneto, I was quickly educated. Mercenaries were rare here and reputable ones very expensive with all the rebellions and fighting that was rumored with each caravan and boat that reached Starkhaven. My guard got annoyed too when other mercenaries were cutting in their contempt of this mission and me.

I'd only managed to hire a few for my command in the city, and would need to recruit elsewhere. It was nearly a month since... the abomination acted, but it was now clear that the Champion had left Kirkwall that day. They had not been spotted by any reputable witnesses since then. Ser Cullen had locked up her mansion without public comment, and the nobles of the city were beginning to choose a new Viscount, finally. I had hoped for that for years.

That left me with no target and I was off balance. They hadn't seized power, I would not have to raze the city to destroy them as I vowed. I could not attack those who were innocent in her death and I had not target to aim my vengeance at. Was he that afraid that they fled? He should fear for what he'd done, but I could not convince myself that they truly feared my return. I could not understand, any power the Champion had was in Kirkwall.

Assassins were much simpler, and hiring those had been surprisingly easy soon after I'd returned home. One Crow asked a ridiculously low price. I sent them out to cities along the Waking Sea where I thought they might go, like some moves in a blind chess game.

After that month I knew there were no more recruits to be found even when I checked the less reputable places. An elven woman mercenary had a shock of white hair like Fenris, but her rudeness had not stopped with words in the last tavern. My guard had no problems subduing her. She stared at him in anger when we'd left, swearing that I'd be sorry.

I'd left, almost amused by her, but then I was knocked down by a blow from behind on the barely lit street. Rolling painfully to my feet, I turned, expecting to see Elyel making good on her threat.

But it was Seneto, wielding a blade that glowed slightly in the dim light. “So, you're tougher than that shiny white armor would make it seem.”

Swiping at me with his sword, I dodged that but did not avoid his shield. Needing to draw my bow, I asked, hoping to stall him. “What are you doing?”

“Jumping off a sinking ship. No one wants you here. A privileged fool can't plan a successful campaign with booty enough to be worth my blood.” He grunted with his next blow, though I kept hold of my bow. “Maybe I should have hired on with the Champion... after I collect the signing money you aren't using.”

Enraged, I managed to move away enough to draw and release an arrow. This close, aiming downward for his visor was a lesson learned long ago here in Starkhaven. Then he was a corpse.

Shaking a little because the first to try to kill me in weeks was one I'd trusted. I made sure to collect any valuables though I wanted to kick his corpse a few times. Then an errant thought came to me, that maybe he was controlled by a blood mage, so I hurried back to the palace, avoiding notice.

I had no trouble, and the castle guards were both surprised and dismayed to see me return all bloodied. Potions and bandaging was sufficient, but I requested a guard. I received one, but wary now I was more careful.

While Seneto had succumbed to greed, I had to admit to myself that my home had become selfish and slothful. I could not force them to act.

I would have to hunt the villains on my own.

Retiring to my chamber, I had to decide where they would most likely have gone into hiding.

Hawke had to be guiding that as I doubted the abomination could control himself that much to stay hidden. That begged the question, how much was Hawke under control? She had lived in hiding for years with her apostate relatives, so he has chosen well.

Leaving Kirkwall, she didn't know the more northern areas, so blending in there was unlikely and also they'd have to pass through Starkhaven if they went north. Orlais and moving closer to the Divine even less likely. I'd suspected they would stay closer to the Waking Sea. But there weren't that many major cities along the coast for them to hide in. She'd lived in Ferelden, and her mabari would be less noticeable there.

So the two closer cities with ports in that country would be the best places to try to pick up their trail. I could hire mercenaries, I hoped, in Highever or Jader.

I only took another day or two to finish my preparations, including secreting trade gems for payment. I would have to be more cautious until I had people who believed and had demonstrated their trustworthiness.

General Hartovan arrived when I was about to turn in the night before my departure. Looking at my packs, he baldly stated, “You are leaving.”

I nodded, as anything that immediately sprang to my lips would be petty anger.

“If you truly wished to serve, boy, you would not be haring off after your latest obsession. There will sadly always be Maleficarum, hunting them is not your duty.” He almost sounded sad.

But it wasn't enough. “This murder has taught me one thing, I cannot serve the hand of the Maker by growing fat and complacent. If I'd returned years ago as you think I should, I would be as uncaring about what was done as you. I would be sitting here counting out my coins and bushels while Thedas burns.”

His own anger growing obvious, Hartovan spoke. “This does not serve either of your duties as a prince or brother. Either of those should demand you stay here to serve.”

“I will bring the Maker's justice to those Maleficar.” I could not understand why no one cared about the Grand Cleric.

“Your obsession is endangering you, boy. Stay here and serve your people. Trust that the Maker will provide for their end. Vengeance and Rage are demons.”

I could only glare at him by this point. “So is sloth. This test of the Maker I will not shirk from like you. We are called to fight the demons and Maleficarum in our midst, His hand will decide their fate and I will be His messenger.”

He only shook his head and left with murmurs of Andraste's blessing.

I set out in the morning, traveling with couriers and then merchants, checking Ostwick and then Amaranthine. I hired mercenaries at each port, making an ever larger dent in my funds, and I was afraid I'd need to sell heirlooms to pay them. Not that that mattered right now, I would gladly give it all in Elthina's memory. The ship I hired to take us to Highever wasn't swift and the weeks kept slipping by as I found no trace of their passage.

When we reached Jader I was beginning to doubt my own plans, and I spoke to the captain about going to Cumberland next. I would hunt them down, like a pair of rabid wolves. I would see justice done.

     _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.  
\- Benedictions 4:10_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The chapter title is adapted from a quote by Dickens._

**Author's Note:**

> _A/N: This story is very much for reconciling Vael and his contradictions from canon. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Notes or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated._


End file.
